In Destiny's Shadow
by spruce56
Summary: An Oblivion Fanfiction: largely inspired when I started playing through the game again, with some understanding of how the class/skills system actually worked.  Follow the journeys of a dark elf archer, a dependable Blade, and the last heir to the throne.
1. Chapter 1

**In Destiny's Shadow: an Oblivion Fanfiction**

**CHAPTER ONE**

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><p>The cell doors of the Imperial City Prison were resistant to both fire and frost spells. Off balance following the sudden realisation that she had a neighbour, Sera had felt more surprised by this than perhaps she ought to have been. The destruction magic had simply fizzled at the merest contact with the bars, well short of its intended target.<p>

Awake now, and more obnoxious for it, Valen Dreth probably had no idea how dearly he had cost her. In short, he had snored, loud and long in the very moment that Sera had been easing the lock's last tumbler free. She'd flinched and snapped her painstakingly smuggled-in lockpick, leaving the shaft too short to complete the operation. Even if she could concentrate over the conscious Dreth's persistent commentary, the miscellaneous bones on the floor were all too thick to be of any use as substitutes.

One, she'd fashioned into a semblance of a weapon, in her ample leisure time. All prison cells tended towards misery, but this one had it all; a draught, dampness, and unidentifiable filth on every surface of the tiny room.

Dreth's cell was immaculate by comparison, though he himself lowered the tone. He was shorter than Sera, he stank from across the hall, and though he shared her red eyes, a trait of all dark elves, his conveyed an air of mingled spite and stupidity.

Alternately crooning and cackling, he still seemed just as impressed by his own wit as he had the first time he had suggested the _pretty dunmer maid_ might like to share his company. Sera was theoretically protected by prison policy, and she was hardly intimidated by the buffoon opposite; but the fact remained that the guard had already demonstrated an unnerving streak of vindictiveness. Though it rankled greatly to be at anyone's mercy, she hoped he was too far away to be inspired by Dreth's notion.

"You're going to die in here. You're going to die," her kinsman repeated with relish, undaunted by her lack of response. At the rate that the guard was finding pretexts to withhold her water ration, he would prove Dreth quite correct.

"Hear that?" Dreth enquired. _Yes, yes of course I hear you, the idiot voice preventing my sleep,_ Sera thought viciously, tempted almost beyond reason to try throwing a silence enchantment through the bars. But no, the necessary scrolls were now evidence, never mind that for once she was entirely innocent. She had left Bruma a day after the supposed incident at the palace, as a bill of sale had clearly proven until the guard had burnt it. There had been something unsettlingly manic and personal about the satisfaction he'd taken in doing so.

Sera groaned aloud, for her general situation, and because a slight head movement had released a fresh stench of rot from her meagre pallet. Across the hall, Dreth was still talking, but behind that Sera could hear footsteps. Guards plural, one called Baurus among them, perhaps the honour guard for her release with a full pardon; that would certainly upset the good Captain Lex.

Sera stood up carefully, listening hard. There were several voices now, besides Dreth's, and some were calmer than others. They grew abruptly louder as the cell block door creaked open, and Sera caught the word _Sire._ That was cause for concern enough, even before assassins were brought up.

No one had yet said what she was being charged with, and Sera's stomach sank a few more notches while _Sire_ lamented his murdered sons. The Emperor she knew by reputation didn't seem the type to conduct interrogations personally, but if that was what she was accused of -

Her pitcher shattered, falling from the table she'd unknowingly backed into, the sudden noise stopping her heart for a moment.

"What's this prisoner doing here?" the female guard in the lead demanded, neatly turning what little Sera thought she had grasped of the situation on its head. The three guards - and _that_ could only be the Emperor - crowded around her door, all dead set on coming in. If her cell contained a secret escape route from the palace, it was a very well hidden one; she'd had time to look.

Baffled, Sera moved toward the window, following the second guard's direction. After they entered and opened the very solid-seeming wall, Sera would have pronounced herself beyond further surprise out of exasperation; until the Emperor himself addressed her.

"I've seen you," he said, to the consternation of the two bodies in armour standing protectively between them. For a hideous instant Sera thought he really was referring to whatever had happened at the palace; knowing that she hadn't been there wouldn't help against this particular testimony, more likely the Emperor's say-so was enough to carry any sentence. For all that it cleared up how he recognized her, Sera was sure she had never seen Uriel Septim VII in her life...except on the backs of very many coins, but that depiction was much younger , without the robes and oversized pendant.

"Let me see your face," the Emperor continued, his expression searching and alarmingly sincere. The guards, and even Dreth had gone silent, painfully so.

"You are the one from my dreams," Uriel declared, solemnly ignoring Sera's weak laugh. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength." He paused, one hand going to the great gem at his throat - the Amulet of Kings, Sera realised. "Take care. There will be blood and death, before the end, but today the Serpent shall sting those who seek yours."

She blinked, startled and at a loss for how his Majesty had divined her birthsign. Hers was a modest constellation, of only four stars, but it was a private one, known only to herself, and now three bodyguards and an Emperor.

He talked a little more, of Gods and more blood, and a predetermined doom; spouting what would be nonsense in any other mouth with a faint but undeniable sense of a more-than-mundane authority.

His guards - his Blades - looked as mystified as she felt, as Sera was finally driven to interrupt.

"You cannot even see the stars from in here," she muttered, pointing at the grimy excuse for a window. "Speak sense, what do you want from me?"

"Gods give me strength," Uriel repeated, not necessarily to her as he gave no sign of having heard. Instead he followed her gesture, gazing at the blurred sliver of moonlight; the picture of a man going steadfastly to his grave, or one who had quite lost his mind. Sera hissed impatiently, mirroring the action of his Captain Renault, clearly more concerned with the inarguably real assassins somewhere in pursuit. The woman was difficult to distinguish from her fellows, wearing identical armour and being only marginally smaller.

"You will find your own path," the Emperor said, by way of parting as he allowed himself to be ushered away.

Sera followed quietly, as closely to the very unimpressed guards as she dared. The assassins would not have to look hard to track them if they made it as far as the prison. Dreth, glaring daggers as she left, would likely be glad to point them in the right direction.

The dust lining the secret passage was ankle deep, yet the Blades were finding plenty to clang their armour against. More than a simple corridor, it seemed like a small wing of the palace had been sealed off, with mouldering long-term residents to match. Sera sped up a little, trying to keep Baurus in sight.

Before she could get clear of the connecting passageway, "Protect the Emperor!" rang out from the chamber ahead, along with the sleek rasp of unsheathed steel.

Fumbling a little with the magic she hadn't practiced in days, Sera's eyes were still full of the blue light of Night-Eye when she entered.

The dark recesses were thrown into sharp relief when the vivid magicka dispersed, revealing three assailants mid-descent from the level above. The Blades were quick and were rapidly engaged to a man. A fourth assassin landed with his back to Sera, offering a perfect opportunity to strike a weak point with her sharpened prong of bone; except that he wore an armour style she was completely unfamiliar with. It looked vaguely Daedric, with the faintly liquid gleam of conjured metal.

Sera took a stab at it anyway, aiming for the cloth section between the base of the helmet and the chest-plate, shadowing the man as he tried to turn around. Her weapon scraped harmlessly against an underlying mail collar, but the assassin dropped to his knees without protest. Letting him fall she saw he had been neatly run through from the front, by a shortsword Uriel extracted from his gut with apparent ease; the dark armour dissolved away in a wash of magicka, gone back from whence it had been summoned.

"Nicely done," Sera muttered under her breath, determined not to gape. True, she was much closer to his age than she'd like to admit, but the elven races aged that much more slowly than men. In any case, neither Dunmeri nor Human Emperors traditionally slew their foes personally, not in unmediated combat.

The encounter had spilled into the stairwell ahead, and partway down, Captain Renault had fallen. Sera let the other Blades draw ahead a tactful distance, before she appropriated the katana. Donning the robes of the assassins seemed less than sensible, and Baurus and Glenroy had wordlessly advised that taking Renault's armour would be a step too far, whether it fit or not. The weapon would have to be enough, it had more heft to it than Sera's bone spar.

Though their possessions were few, one of the assassins had the right-sized feet, and Sera gratefully put a layer of leather between her skin and any more muck. With the aid of Renault's sword she also detached a sleeve from one of the robes, knotting the end to form a crude pouch. It was not a flattering addition to her wardrobe - now benefiting from the same former-assassin's belt as well - but it was the best she had time to make without losing sight of the people who knew the way out.

With Sera bringing up the distant rear, they reached another open chamber, with stairs descending to an ancient door. Baurus unlocked it and led the way; without turning the Emperor spoke, as his final guard raised his arms to bar Sera from following.

"Here you must find your own path. But we will cross ways again before the end, I am sure of it."

The older Blade, Glenroy, still carried his point; shutting the door with so much deliberation that he shook a few bricks loose from the adjoining wall. Sera stuck her tongue out at the sound of the lock turning, huffing with more bravado than she felt. Uriel was easier to dismiss as an aging mystic in absentia, but the atmosphere of fateful sobriety lingered.

But to business - she was partway through a catacomb of unknown extent, and Baurus had taken the only known key with him. The assassins had got in somehow, however, and Sera soon found a likely looking pillar from which she could ascend to their entry point.

After tossing the katana ahead, Sera leaped, taking the impact harder than she expected, but ultimately climbing up onto the ledge. To her disgust, they had been conscientious enough to lock the upper door behind them. Probing the edges with the katana served little purpose, except to make an infernal grating sound; likewise when she returned to ground level to try her luck with the first exit.

Perhaps one of the bricks Glenroy had dislodged would have shattered into useful fragments; conveniently lockpick-shaped for example, if only the _stars _would be so kind.

Upon closer examination the stones all proved to be intact, but there was something of a breeze emerging from the hole left behind. The rest of the wall crumbled with surprisingly little persuasion, revealing a deeper expanse of cave than she could see the end of unaided.

The Nighteye spell came easier the second time, filling in the shadowed corners. Directly to her right lay a sunken chest; possibly it had been locked once, but the metal pulled easily free of the wood. The remains of some garment, a corroded hand axe and a few coins lay within, the latter of which Sera dropped into her pouch. Over the last creaking protest of the closing chest, there was a distinct shuffling from around the far corner.

Renewing her spell first, Sera had the katana half drawn when the first rat sprang in her direction. Including its fleshy tail, the thing was as long as she was tall, lunging upwards with a bloodthirsty squeak. Clumsily, cursing how longer blades could not be drawn as quickly as the daggers she was more used to, Sera bludgeoned the rat with the hilt. It staggered, made a passing swipe at its companion, and resumed the offensive.

Sera retreated sideways, edging into the more open space where she could bring her weapon to bear, discarding the empty scabbard where it fell. The two rats were twitching on their haunches, feinting as often as they made genuine leaps; to be kicked or belted back. Small wonder Renault had gone down, the katana was so wretchedly heavy. Finally one rat overshot its mark, landing splayed at Sera's feet. She stabbed downwards, impaling the rodent before it could rise. The blade remained stuck in the hard-packed earth, despite her efforts to withdraw it.

"Move!" she snarled, pulling back on the hilt. It shifted fractionally, still essentially useless while weighed down with the furry adornment. The remaining rat threw itself at her, and she had to lean back almost to the point of falling, to avoid the yellowed teeth. It took a moment to line itself up again, and abandoning the sword, Sera seized the chance to collect herself

Perhaps because of the few practice attempts against the prison bars, the destruction magic came readily to mind. Releasing the magicka, Sera caught the rat full in the face, with all the fire she had earlier wished on Dreth.

It was an inexplicable reflex for a dark elf; Sera was very nearly fireproof herself, and yet even against her own kind, inciting conflagration was the most natural expression of profound annoyance. The rat was not so incombustible, and expired very quickly. In a last act of revenge it left a smouldering corpse reeking worse than anything so far.

The stench was familiar, reminding her that however bizarre the circumstances that had gotten her here, she was not so inexperienced a dungeon-crawler to be defeated by rats. Hunkering down despite the smell, Sera retrieved both katana and scabbard, using the alcove to hide the worst of the glow as she replenished her Eyes of Midnight. That had been the name of the first spell of night sight she'd learned anyway, years ago; her subsequent variations had less embellished titles, the latest of which she could not presently recall. She had a hood enchanted to do the same thing, only practicing the spell herself when moving around her home at night.

That hood was well out of reach, however,as was all her usual equipment she'd left behind for a simple day trip to Bruma. On a whim she had roamed further afield, discontented with Selena Orania's alchemical wares; the visit to the Imperial City, and its prison had unfolded thereafter.

Thirsty and thoroughly disgruntled, Sera was not yet hungry enough to sample the flash-roasted meat, but she carved a small supply off before moving on.

The dirt floor of the cavern was worn away in places, exposing flagstones that had been laid out but never finished. Similarly, the thick pillars supporting the roof had been eroded by time, listing enough to encourage greater speed past them. Sera's knees ached a little, from maintaining her stooped posture, but she soon fell into her old rhythm, making much quieter progress than before. Courtesy of her growing...maturity, she was perhaps slower than she once had been, but by a trifling fraction.

There was a third rat, skulking at the far side of the chamber. Katana in hand, Sera crept towards it, alert for any sound besides her quickening heartbeat. Somehow she gave herself away, and the rodent spun around with a rasping squeak; only to spontaneously perish. It rolled onto its side and twitched, but after a moment of suspicious observation, Sera was forced to concede its genuine demise. A cursory scan of the area confirmed that nothing else was moving.

Whether the fates were involved or not, Sera's low expectations were most generously answered as she explored the last corner, by the pile of anonymous bones. He - or she - had left a bow and quiver, with a handful of passably straight shafts, and a single, shining lockpick. Indulging in a small superstition, Sera left his few coins where they lay, feeling a certain kinship for the fellow archer who had presumably failed to locate an exit.

She turned to leave, snagging her foot against something buried in the dust.

"I am much obliged to you, sir," she said, after replacing the regrettably empty waterskin. It was a touching effort, after he'd done so much for her.

The door, when she finally found it, was partly concealed behind a rat-gnawed goblin. The corpse was fresh, relatively speaking, and goblins seldom worked alone. This one held the key to the door, to Sera's mild disappointment. Reaffirming her lock-disabling prowess would have to wait while she had no picks to spare. Sera tested the wasted bowstring and tightened the lower attachment with an old nail, before easing the door ajar.

Despite a wince-worthy squeal, her entry brought no immediate attention. Faint tracks littered the dust on the other side, both goblin and rat, but old. A few barrels had been overturned and left, without their contents, again not recently. Though there were none in evidence, the smell suggested that the creatures were well-established here, possibly preying on each other for as long as the way had been sealed.

The passageway remained narrow, echoing the sound of rats long before Sera actually caught sight of them. They were strangely skittish, where they usually gained confidence in number; fleeing even as she tried to count them. She followed quietly, letting them reach and traverse the next room, only turning her attention to its contents in their absence.

Examining an intent barrel, Sera thought she had perhaps been too harsh in her judgement of what the stars intended. Mostly concealed by rubble, the barrel had been left undisturbed, with lockpicks and mead within. Her preference in alcohol lay elsewhere, but she could certainly use the bottles. Happy was the clink of glass, fastened by practiced hands to her belt; equal but opposite to the emotion in the sudden keening of rats.

The frantic squealing died away almost instantly, succeeded by a wet tearing.

Carefully Sera approached the mouth of the passage, squinting down into the greenish gloom. The muted crunch of bone was nauseating, echoing so that it might have been coming from anywhere within the tunnel. An unnatural shadow stretched out beneath the hunched figure at the foot of the incline; the joined silhouette of a rat and the humanoid eating it.

Her Night-Eye spell was wearing thin, but there was just enough light filtering through from somewhere overhead, to suffice. The creature was unlikely to stay occupied for long; the undead never ate out of hunger, but rather as another outlet for their indiscriminate aggression. Its face was mercifully unknown at this distance. As Sera considered her options, jamming a few arrows upright in the dirt for easy access, the thing tensed.

With a gargling howl it tore the rat carcass lengthwise, then simply dropped the savaged pieces.

"'_Hate undead,_" Sera breathed with contained vehemence. While they never abandoned a living target, zombies had no interest in the truly dead. Strategically the quirk was of limited use; the state had to be irrevocably proven before they'd leave anything alone. _I hate, detest, _despise _undead!_ she vented inwardly, loosing her first shaft.

It took the zombie in the shoulder, knocking it back a pace, so that it became entangled in the disassembled rodents. As Sera had hoped, it turned, following the impetus of the arrow. She nocked another, loosing it before the zombie had settled on a direction to charge in. Neither Daedric, nor silver, the barbs were not greatly damaging, but the embedded shafts would hinder its retaliation when it found her.

The means by which zombies located their prey were unclear; even when their eyes, or sometimes heads had separated from the larger part, they were inevitably drawn towards life. With a triumphant groan it finally started towards hers, its eager shambling deceptively swift. Lowering the bow, Sera released a bolt of ruddy magic, already preparing a potenter spell. Zombies were vulnerable to fire, and with that weakness exacerbated further, her next attack would punish it.

The magicka was blazing under the flesh of her fingers, but a baser instinct still turned her stomach cold as she waited for the thing bare-handed. In a heartbeat it was close enough for her to see one of her shafts wobbling with every step, barely fast in the jellied abdomen. This time she lost sight of her foe once the flames were unleashed, dodging to the side, but not wholly avoiding being struck; she felt cold, _wrong _skin scrape against her arm.

Three times she engulfed the howling undead, until her magicka ran dry and the creature fell. She stumbled away from it, her senses slowly returning to magnify the effect; the afterglow of embers, and the faint bubbling of steam escaping the cooked tissue. A strangled laugh escaped her, partly self-directed. It quickly turned into coughing, coating the inside of her mouth with the reeking ash.

Sera took a breath and held it, picking up her spare arrows - though some were burned beyond help - and withdrew to a more prudent distance. Subject to a few days of wrongful imprisonment, and bereft of her customary equipment; and she was finding herself thoroughly spooked by rats, a common zombie, and the baleful prophesying of an octogenarian. _Disgraceful_.

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><p>Rejected title idea #1: <em>Que Sera, Sera<em>  
>EDITED BY MY SISTER, MUCH GRATITUDE.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**In Destiny's Shadow: an Oblivion Fanfiction**

**CHAPTER TWO**

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><p>"Kill her, she might be working with the assassins." were Glenroy's fond words of welcome, when Sera reappeared above the Emperor's party.<p>

"Yes, I'm sure I was a great asset, coordinating the attack from inside my cell. Please," Sera returned tartly, slipping down from the upper level to join them. Initially surprised to have caught up with them, she realized their route had probably been much longer, circumventing the entire cave system she'd negotiated. Glenroy scowled in answer.

"No," the Emperor said firmly. He barely raised his voice, and did not move, but Glenroy subsided instantly. Baurus studied Sera more calmly, no more thrilled at sharing space with the prisoner than his companion; faithful paladins, both of them, probably without a scrap of guile between them.

"She can help us," Uriel pronounced, with aggravating certainty. "She must help us."

"As you wish, Sire," Glenroy replied smartly, straight-backed despite the resignation in his voice. Sera's confidence was rapidly returning, now that she had acquired surrogates for her most valued possessions, and it was a struggle to keep her own expression neutral, inwardly bristling in anticipation of an Imperial Order.

"Come closer," Uriel requested, his eyebrows drawing together very slightly when she did not immediately comply. "I'd prefer not to have to shout."

"Sire," Sera acknowledged, relenting to stand before him.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen," he said. Sera nodded in complete agreement; she doubted very much anyone could have much faith in such glorified stargazing, not secondhand. She herself was...more convinced of his insight than she had expected to be, but her official stance was still scepticism.

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. Though They guide our fates with an invisible hand, the skies are marked in fire, every one a sign. I know these stars well." Here, he hesitated, reduced by promised events that only he could see. Before Sera's eyes he became nothing more than a tired old man, bent by the weight of his years.

"Your stars are not mine," he affirmed, and the moment was irretrievably gone.

"No," Sera agreed, unintentionally moved. "I believe you were born by the light of the Tower, though not, perhaps, at the peak of the White Gold Tower, as some sources would suggest."

"...Indeed," Uriel answered, unsmiling and ambiguous to which circumstance he was confirming. His eyes had lightened though.

"The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end will come when it will come. But in your face I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness." This time he paused deliberately, his voice taking on a sympathetic note of doubt. "My dreams grant me no opinions of success...but with such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart will be satisfied."

"You have my promise," Sera muttered, looking away to conceal the stunned outrage of her inner self. She was signing - _sincerely_signing, without a trace of duplicity - a contract she had not yet seen, let alone read.

"We have to keep moving, your Majesty," Baurus said, stepping forward. Addressing Sera, he continued, "You may as well make yourself useful. Here, carry this torch and stick close."

They proceeded once more through the deserted halls, now splendidly lit up for all to see in Sera's opinion. At least they were unlikely to be troubled by goblins; the nest had been centred within the large cavern she'd negotiated to get back into the palace substructure. While initially alarmed by the profusion of fresh tracks appearing, the full goblin population had obligingly placed itself in the path of the log trap they appeared to have just completed. No doubt their handiwork looked very fine from the lower vantage point, and so absorbed, they did not even try to move aside when Sera rolled the whole stack down on them.

But the true prize had lain in their storeroom, among wisp caps and stinkhorn fungi Sera had harvested almost unconsciously; a mortar and pestle, and the bottles she needed to contain the consequent brews. She'd left the ground damp with the rejected efforts of the goblin shaman-come-alchemist, and now had several arrows with marked fletchings to indicate which of her own toxins was applied.

Baurus, accompanying her at the back of the party, had noticed the additions, wrinkling his nose at the complex odour emanating from her newly bulging pouch, but to Sera it was an inspiring bouquet.

"We're nearly there," he said, when they passed through another cramped passage. "Good thing too - watch out!" Sera flattened herself against the wall to let him barrel past, wondering how he could have seen anything from his position. The two Blades enthusiastically set about vanquishing their latest attackers. Readying an arrow - the brand gladly doused as soon as their backs were turned - Sera located the source of Baurus' omniscience; one of the assassins was also holding a torch, projecting long shadows of his compatriots waiting in the wings.

One was silhouetted in preparation to jump, and it was a simple matter to step clear of the corridor and catch him mid-flight. The torch-bearer was further back, struck a glancing blow by her second arrow, but able to summon his - no, her - armour before the third.

The woman dropped purposefully down to Sera's level, a gleaming mace materialising in her hand, but a moment later Sera knew both shots had found their mark. The assassin's fluid landing turned into a stagger, limbs suddenly dragging with unnatural fatigue; her armour and weapon now a hindrance as she struggled to lift even her own weight.

Still keeping an internal count, Sera rounded on her first victim, closing the distance between them as he overcame the effect of the same enervating poison. Arrow in hand she thrust it through the fabric of his cowl. Behind the burnished mask, he sighed, the fixed features obscuring any other reaction to the shaft in his throat.

Baurus and Glenroy had accounted for the rest, though they adopted the same aggrieved expression upon noting that Uriel had quietly dispatched a seventh assassin instead of remaining protected within their reach. Enfeebled by the second of two toxins, Sera's female opponent had never risen; slightly slower-acting, the serum on the arrowhead that only grazed her had devoured what was left of her vitality.

"You handle yourself pretty well," Baurus remarked, wiping his blade off on the robes of the nearest downed assailant. Wearily, Sera nodded, buoyed by what they had achieved so far but sorely missing her own bow. The ill-fated adventurer's had served her well, but she did not trust it to stave off a more robust weapon, in the event of an attacker getting that close.

"We're nearly out," Baurus reaffirmed, taking the rear position, once Sera had retrieved her arrows. She re-tipped them on the move, a single drop of venom falling harmlessly to the floor as she reflexively twitched her hand aside. "That looks like something you've practiced."

"More than a few times, yes."

"Huh. So I wasn't too far off, placing you as some kind of assassin." Baurus's smug smile was audible; also irrationally irritating, it wasn't a confession over which she felt the least scrap of guilt.

"I prefer agent, the skill sets are distinct," Sera replied, endeavouring not to sound too cold. The younger Blade was making an effort to get along, but there was a note of challenge under the banter. Sera suspected he was reserving judgement, still curious to know what she'd been in for. She shrugged, replacing the capped bottle on her belt. "These are dangerous times; I suppose this is my remedy to balance the scales."

For a secret escape way, it certainly enjoyed more entry points than seemed entirely logical. Sera could not fathom the intended use of all the open galleries overlooking their path. And either Baurus possessed the master key - existent, and therefore obtainable for any would-be assassin with sufficient motivation - or he was extraordinarily deft in exchanging multiple keys without a jangle.

Just as Sera was beginning to question her assumption that Baurus did know where they were, they emerged in one of the largest, most rundown and woefully exposed chambers yet.

"Hold up, I don't like this," Glenroy called from the in lead.

"I don't like this either," Sera echoed, one hand going to the reassuringly cool glass at her hip. Diluted by water sourced in the goblin storeroom, she could tell both poison bottles were nearly full, by the layer of condensation beginning just below the brim. The water itself had been quenching, but unfortunately tasted strongly of those who'd put it there.

"Looks clear," Glenroy observed, halfheartedly optimistic. In unison Baurus and Sera shook their heads, bleak in disbelief. At the foot of what might once have been a grand antechamber, Glenroy tried and then rattled the iron gate blocking their way.

"Damn it, it's barred from the other side; a trap!" The two Blades unsheathed their katanas, pacing a tense circuit of the room. At Baurus' suggestion they backtracked to a side passage, unable to keep from glancing upwards despite the lack of balconies in this offshoot.

"It's a dead end, they're behind us!" Baurus growled, pausing over the carrying squeal of the gate hinges. To Glenroy; "What's your call sir?" They all stopped to listen, the suspense tautening for every moment the assassins failed to appear in the doorway.

"Wait here Sire," Glenroy insisted, passing Sera so closely that she saw his hesitant swallow. Baurus followed, turning briefly to the dark elf with an openly uncertain look.

"Wait here with the Emperor, guard him with your life." Sera nodded, not particularly because she felt honour-bound to oblige, but because the Blade would likely fare better if he was less preoccupied with his charge.

She strung up an arrow, careful not to let the poison run down the shaft and onto her skin - her gauntlets, there was another article she would have preferred to have at hand - and scanned the four corners of their refuge. Uriel was behind her, relatively protected in the corner, and Sera turned her attention to the sole connecting passage.

But the assassin entered through a false wall, stepping out from the same alcove she'd directed Uriel to. It shouldn't have happened, she'd reacted as soon as she heard the scrape of the hidden door, an arrow ready; but she found herself inexplicably paralyzed in the telling instant.

"I can go no further," the Emperor said, sensing the blade poised at his back before its bearer had even cleared the small opening. Uncomprehending then, Sera had turned to see the danger, but could not move as it descended. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. Take my Amulet, give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find the last of my blood. Find my last son -" _why_hadn't anyone thought to make the Emperor wear armour, the rich cloth of his robes yielded instantly, "- and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Dumbfounded, Sera missed the most of what the assassin directed at her; the first sensation she knew clearly after the paralysis ceased, was the fletching slipping between her fingers, and she reacted very simply by aligning it with the murderer's chest. He stumbled back a pace, but then brushed the arrow contemptuously out of the armour it had barely penetrated.

"You will regret that stranger," he promised silkily, approaching casually. Sera retreated, flicking off another arrow, only to have it bounce harmlessly aside. Even at close range, the old bow simply didn't have the power to punch through his conjured shell.

The dagger though, that was the greater concern. Her opponent had to be grinning ear-to-ear, behind the mask, flourishing his weapon and practically glowing with fervour. Sera took a swipe at it, swinging the bow out while his grip was loosened; with enviable reflexes he twirled the blade around his fingers, just outside her reach.

He hovered there, skirting the edge of the close range Sera really did not want him inside. She feinted, one hand darting for another arrow, the other relinquishing the bow; he noticed the deception, already too far committed to his advance, and walked into a small inferno blossoming from her left hand. Shrieking, more out of alarm than genuine pain; the spell had not been powerful, he closed the rest of the way.

Sera's gamble had been called, instead of recoiling he was now way too close; and preparing another spell might take longer than she had to spare.

"Whoops!" he tittered, deliberately slashing wide so that the dagger's edge skated along the bow she'd snatched up again in defense. Fine, Sera took the chance to back off again, unashamed to take any opening he cared to offer. She dove as he came after her, rolling beneath his strike, but more importantly succeeding in plunging a held arrow down the gap between his boot and shinguard.

The assassin's outcry set her teeth on edge, piercing and prolonged, and Sera regained her feet feeling vindicated; Baurus was less impressed, overbalancing slightly as he adjusted his strike to avoid her.

"Watch it!" he grunted, pivoting to cleave the assassin's grandiose pauldron down to a more manageable size. He took a fair piece of the shoulder with it, but spinning back the other way, buried the rest of the conversation in his opponent's upper torso.

Sera was panting slightly, but not enough to drown out grate of steel against bone, as Baurus removed his katana. The Emperor lay facing the wall, having at least flinched away from the dagger strike. The Amulet had spilled out of his hand, and Sera felt strangely numb as she retrieved it. A little blood had dried on the chain, which she wiped off before Baurus turned to her.

"That was careless of me, I'm sorry," she said, realizing the instant it was too late how thoughtless that sounded. The Blade was not concerned with her having been momentarily in his way; his expression clearly showed that he had come straight to her rescue, not sighting the Emperor until now.

"No...Talos save us," he breathed.

"We've failed. _I've_failed. The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead."

"Was that all of them?" Sera asked sharply, hoping to stir him. His head twitched in what might have been a nod. She left him, feeling wholly inadequate to deliver any meaningful consolation; regardless of whether she herself believed it, she couldn't think of anything remotely comforting to say.

Glenroy was dead, still kneeling over a last routed opponent, his fixed grip on the man's neck sufficing where he had lost his sword. There was something disproportionate about the great streaks of blood left behind after the summoned weapons of the assassins had evaporated; the fallen Blade's katana looked too small to account for the carnage alone.

None of the fallen agents had any telling possessions to identify their employer or leader, only a couple of potions, their robes, and shoes. Sera cleaned the katana off, noting that the blood hardly showed against the wine-coloured fabric. With a little help from the blade, she loosened the stitching affixing the gloves to the one-piece garment. They were only cloth, not leather, and she imagined she looked a right scarecrow now.

Some spark of morbid curiosity led her to the gate; it would have been the work of seconds to pick it and perhaps reverse the ambush. No, unlikely, the musical hinges would have thwarted a sneak attack, but it was still a frustrating notion. Behind her, Sera heard heavy footsteps, Baurus emerging hurriedly from the side chamber.

"The Amulet: where's the Amulet of Kings?" he demanded, borderline panic, but also accusation discernible in his voice.

"I have it. He told me to take it." His eyes went to the jewel tucked into her belt, the concern in his face draining slightly.

"Strange," he said, mollified at least back to his original attitude of marginal confidence in her integrity. "He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it's the Dragon Blood, that flows in the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men...but he must have given it to you for a reason, did he say -"

"He did: Jauffre. He said to take the amulet to Jauffre, who knows where to find another heir. Hopefully that name means something to -"

"Yes, it does," Baurus retorted, interrupting her in turn. "Jauffre is the Grandmaster of my order, but I've never heard of another heir. If the Emperor told you so, it must be true. Jauffre lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol. Do you know where that is?"

Sera looked at him, letting the incredulous silence stand for just a moment. "Yes," she answered, sighing. "What will you do?"

"I'll stay here and guard the Emperor's body. Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers; that's where we were heading. There are rats and goblins down there, but from what I've seen, you won't have any trouble with them." _Oh naturally_, sewers.

"If I'm on my own, I expect I'll be able to get by unnoticed. But the assassins - if that was all of them, their master, or masters, won't know they succeeded."

"Either way, they'll know soon enough. The Dragonfires will have died," Baurus said, glancing down at Uriel's body. It was a part of the Temple lore Sera had never really looked into, but from the Blade's attitude she surmised the quenching of the perpetual flames would have more ominous consequences than mere literal darkness. "The Amulet is more than simple jewellery, it has power. Only a true heir of the blood can wield it, but that's not exactly common knowledge. In any case the assassins won't know they have reason to pursue it, the escape way should see you right to the edge of the city, and from there you can reach Chorrol quickly."

"Will I need a key to get out?" Sera prompted him, while he fidgeted with the same object.

"I don't know, will you?" he retorted, but wilting a moment later, regretting the flash of temper. Sera rolled her eyes inwardly, not offended, but impatient to be gone, the sooner to fulfil her part in a bargain she could still hardly believe she'd made. The race of Imperials was supposedly gifted with gilded tongues, but she'd met eloquent speakers before; in the marketplace anyway, she was one. She could not account for what had come over her.

"If you need your key, I'll manage."

"No - take it." While he had achieved verbal conviction, his hand did not move for a few more seconds. Sera took it, careful not to snatch, and made to depart.

The last assassin had toppled backwards, landing with one outstretched arm resting on the man he'd slain. She nudged the stiffening limb aside with her foot, establishing some distance between the two bodies. Baurus shifted behind her, imagining...what? Perhaps he expected her to search the former Emperor, as she had each of their fallen assailants. On her own she would have, plain and simple, but she was not wholly without discretion.

She stooped, untucking both katanas from her belt and laying them gently down. The assassin's blade had not disappeared, a corporeal piece of Daedric metalwork, brought manually from the burning realms. It suited her hand better, let Baurus make of that what he would.

The sewers were everything Sera could have hoped for, dank, and resonant with the suspect noises of rats, goblins, and mundane dripping pipes. But the wildlife was not observant, nor the stagnant channels too wide. A few times she nearly revealed herself to the creatures, landing just a little less quietly than she intended on the slick, uneven surfaces. A goblin sighted her briefly, small eyes tracking the movement in the shadows, but she was gone before it could decide whether to act. That she'd kept her feet perfectly dry, was rather a more hollow achievement than usual.

She emerged under the twin lights of Jode and Jone, taking her time to get her bearings. The moons were reflected in the still waters of lake encircling the city, a beautiful clear night. Sera made her way cautiously onto the old jetty, an Ayleid ruin on the far shore gleaming in the darkness. There was something to the left of it too...another jetty; maybe Vilverin, then, a ruin Sera had explored several times. It had been a popular site for bandits, offering shelter within easy distance of the Imperial roads.

The white stone structures fitted what she remembered of the place, but then the Ayleid ruins tended to be similar. Assuming it was Vilverin, that would put her a little north-east of the Imperial City. The lake was not wide here, and after a few wobbly steps within safe reach of the jetty, Sera was confident enough that her Water Walking spell would see her to the other side.

From there she would go north, home to resupply, and then to Chorrol.


End file.
